Playing With Fire
by Lady Azura
Summary: Fitz just wants to watch the world burn.


Summary: Fitz just wants to watch the world burn.

Disclaimer: Don't own _Degrassi_. 'Nuff said.

Author's Note: Don't ask.

**Playing With Fire****  
**_**By: Lady Azura**_

Your name is _Fitz_. Mark is your dad's name; the same dad you've never met, who walked out on your mom when she was still pregnant with you. When you're old enough to understand this, after it stops hurting, it pisses you the fuck off. You're angry and decide that you don't like your name anymore because it reminds you of what you'll never have. You want a new one and settle on "Fitz" because it sounds cool, but your mom and teachers insist on calling you "Mark" even when you tell them not to.

At first, the rest of your classmates don't listen to you either. Some kid even mocks you for it, but you get back at him during recess by punching him square in the mouth, hard enough to knock out his two front teeth and bust his lip wide open. He bawls like a baby and you laugh at him, and from that day on, you're known as _Fitz_.

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You've never had it easy. _Ever_. You live in a rough neighbourhood flooded with crime - gangs lurking in every alley, drug busts, rape, murder, underage girls selling their bodies on street corners, and so on. The sound of police sirens wailing in the night is normal to you and by the time you reach the fourth grade, you've grown desensitized to it all.

Your mom is a waitress by day and a bartender by night. Sometimes she needs a third job just to support you both. She's a high school dropout, disowned by her super-strict Christian family when she got knocked up at seventeen, but she works her _ass_ off to put food on the table and a roof over your head, and so you have nothing but the utmost respect for her because you know she fucking deserves it. You're no angel - in fact, sometimes you're just rotten to the core - but she still puts up with your shit. She _loves_ you and you love her too, even though you'll never say it out loud.

You're too cool for that.

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One day, your mom brings home someone; a man around her age, maybe a little older, with tattoos and a goatee and a bald head. His name is Phil and he's a mechanic - he's also her new boyfriend. Your mom has had boyfriends before, because she's young and pretty, but none of them have ever stuck around, not after learning about _your_ existence. No one wants extra baggage.

But Phil is different. He stays, and a few months later, they get married. You think your life is gonna get better, but you couldn't be any more wrong.

Some odd weeks later, Phil has the day off. You get home from school early and find him parked in front of the TV, watching wrestling and downing his fifth can of beer. You think nothing of it and decide to make yourself a snack, but when you climb up onto the counter to get a plate from the cupboard, you accidentally knock over the entire stack. Porcelain crashes to the floor and you stare in both shock and amusement, until a shadow looms over you.

Before you can even react, Phil has your arm in a vice-like grip. He's yelling and swearing, and you don't know why but you mutter something sarcastic under your breath. Suddenly the side of your face explodes with pain and you hit the floor, curling into a ball and covering your head, trying not to cry because _boys don't do that_. Phil crouches down and pries your arms apart; he tells you to never talk back to him again, and all you can do is nod.

It won't be the last time you'll be at the receiving end of his fist, and deep down, you know it. But you can't tell your mom because he might hurt her too, and so when she comes home later that night and sees you sporting a black eye, you lie and say you got into a fight at the park. She shakes her head in disappointment, but is none the wiser.

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The next few years are a blur to you. Phil is laid off, but instead of going out and trying to find a new job, he spends all his free time at the bar getting drunk with your mom's hard earned cash. The stress of juggling three jobs with no help from her husband whatsoever takes its toll on her health and drives her to smoke. She does it in secret, hoping you won't see, but you do.

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You're thirteen now, officially a teenager, and that's when it starts. You're walking home from school when a bunch of fire trucks whiz by, and out of curiosity - and because you're not quite ready to explain to your mom why you failed _another_ test - you follow.

You end up outside of a school, engulfed in flames. The scene has already attracted a large crowd. Other bystanders look on in horror, but _you_ are struck with awe. Your heart is beating fast and your muscles spasm with excitement as you watch the fire consume the building until there's nothing left, except the skeletal remains of what was once Lakehurst.

You stay until it's finally put out and the firefighters usher you away. When you get home, you steal your mom's lighter and spend the rest of the night sitting in your room, wasting the fluid by watching the tiny flame flicker before your eyes.

And so begins your morbid fascination.

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When you start high school, you get involved with a "bad crowd" - the kind your mom wanted you to steer clear from, but what she doesn't know won't hurt her, you decide. Your new "friends" introduce you to a world of drugs, booze, shoplifting, vandal and petty crime, and halfway through first semester, Johnny and Moose take you to the ravine for the first time. It becomes a second home to you.

There, you sit in front of a large bonfire and watch the flames dance while everyone around you makes out and gets wasted. But you're too mesmerized to care. There's a girl sitting beside you who you learn is also new to the ravine. She has dark hair that reaches just below her shoulders, hoops in her ears, glossy lips and sharp eyes. Her name is Bianca.

At some point, she disappears into the woods with a much older guy, and when they finally return, the guy is zipping up his fly and wearing a satisfied grin. Bianca, on the other hand, looks nauseous as she wipes her mouth with the back of her perfectly-manicured hand, and before you know it, she keels over and retches into the nearest bush. Everyone howls with laughter, including her "date" - but you can't help but pity her, at least a little bit. So when she resumes her spot on the log next to you, you offer her a beer. She glares at you, but takes it anyway and chugs it.

A week or so later, you lose your virginity to her, in the back of a van. It's clumsy and awkward, and neither of you really know what you're doing, but it feels good so you don't care.

You're fourteen.

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You spend the next two years basically sleepwalking through life. School doesn't interest you - not that it ever has - and the only reason you even bother showing up to class at all is because your mom wants to see you graduate. It's pointless, though, because you have no goals, no motivations, no aspirations, no _nothing_. You just don't _care_ anymore, and you can't remember the last time you did.

You're practically a zombie, and apart from sex, the only thing that makes you feel truly _alive_ is when you're pummelling some weakling into oblivion. Like watching the flames devour the school all those years ago, it gives you an adrenaline rush like no other.

It's exhilarating and relieving at the same time.

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One day, you find a new obsession. You've never believed in God, but you're convinced that Clare Edwards is an angel sent from heaven. So pretty, so perfect, so _pure_… you want to destroy her, taint her, break her and then rebuild her in your own image.

But first, you have to seduce her. Get her away from _him_. _He_ doesn't deserve her, and neither do you, but you want her and when you want something, you get it. Simple as that. So like the serpent in her holy texts, you get close to her, coil around her without her knowing while using her naivety against her, and whisper to her,

_"Will you dance with the Devil? Will you live in sin?"_

You plant the seed, and when all is said and done, after she's tasted the forbidden fruit you've offered and fallen from grace, she'll finally stand by your side.

And together, you'll watch the world burn.

**FIN**

**I have no idea how to explain this. There were some things I liked, and some things I didn't. Also, I've never written anything in this POV before, so it's kind of weird, but I felt like I couldn't do it any other way.**

** It was weird. Originally it was going to just be a Fitz-centric oneshot, but the Clitz fan in me demanded otherwise. Also, in case anyone is confused, the last scene is Fitz devising a **_**plan**_**, not him actually having achieved it… **_**yet**_**. Oh, and I decided to have some Bitz (Bianca and Fitz, get it? Bitz! Bitz!) thrown in too, because their friendship is intriguing. I hope the writers delve into it more on the show, hopefully when February rolls around. I'd like to see more of it.**

** And… that's all for now, I think. **

** Please ****REVIEW**** and tell me what you think! Remember: constructive criticism is always welcome.**


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